


Lay Your Finger Anywhere Down

by Missy



Category: Scooby Doo Where Are You! (TV 1969), Scooby-Doo (2002)
Genre: Comfort, Dry Humping, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-03
Updated: 2011-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-22 04:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaggy and Velma find that the best things in life aren't always mapped out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Your Finger Anywhere Down

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XII, Prompt: SCOOBY DOO, Shaggy/Velma – courage, asking, the van. thank you to Amber for beta!

Shaggy Rogers had lost count of the number of times he’d broken off whatever he was doing and stared at Velma Dinkley. It wasn’t just that Velma was pretty…okay, she was very pretty in Shaggy’s eyes…it’s that she said the smartest things, the ones that made him feel important, brave and worth paying attention to.

At the moment, she was explaining the mechanics of the trap she was constructing with steel, rope and apparently quantum physics. Daphne and Fred had volunteered to take Scooby for a quick meal down at the diner across the street; for the moment, it was only Shaggy, Velma and the rain drumming peacefully against the roof of the van. Shaggy sat cross-legged, listening to her, idly holding the wrench.

“So, like,” he said, pointing to a mark she’d made on the map, “we go there, and me and Scoob should hide, right?”

She nodded, a proud smile. “You’re very astute, Shaggy.” Her hand reached out for his, cupping around his fingers. “Please don’t touch it, the ink might smear.”

The touch lingered. Shaggy gave her an awkward smile and gently pried his hand away from hers. “So, like, when are we going back?”

“In the morning, I think – it’s too late now.” She yawned and stretched out, reaching back for her sleeping bag. “Good night, Shaggy. Keep an eye out for Daph and Fred?”

“Sure. Night Velms.” He sat on the floor of the van for a moment, watching her set aside her glasses. When they camped out in the van overnight none of them bothered to change. Even in a baggy orange sweater, her could make out the curves of Velma’s body. The dim light of their battery-operated lantern highlighted her freckles. She was gorgeous. “Velma?”

“Mmm?” she was sleepy, and he shouldn’t be waking her.

“You look as nice as a meatball sub in that light.”

The unusual compliment made her open an eye. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He tried to arrange his long legs in a way that was comfortable. “Velma?”

She snorted against her inner arm. “What, Shag?”

“Thanks for calling me brave. ‘Cause I know I’m a chicken.” He laughed nervously. He shivered again, remembering the creepy ghosts they had gotten rid of in the last town.

“You’re brave when you need to be,” Velma pointed out. Shaggy gave her a sheepish grin. “Do you need a hug?”

“Huh?” The thought hadn’t crossed his mind.

“You’re shaking,” she said. Well, he knew that. Tentatively, Shaggy held out an arm, and Velma sat up and wrapped hers around his torso.

Her heat seeped into his skin, making Shaggy feel marginally better, and certainly braver, than he had before. Resting his chin atop her head, he felt her move beneath him, glancing into his eyes.

The kiss was mutually initiated, with no proper line of thought behind it, just the desire to be a little closer to someone else. Before Shaggy could decide what he was doing and why, he found himself rolled onto his back in Velma’s sleeping bag.

Making out was fun – Shaggy didn’t get to do it much, never mind with his dream girl; he tried as hard as he could to please her with his hips and his hands, lips caressing his neck and arms crossed around her back. He knew Velma was nearly blind without her glasses, but this was one activity neither of them needed the power of sight to perform.

“Shag,” she murmured as his hand disappeared up her sweater. “Oh, that’s good.”

“Zoinks,” he said, feeling her nipple harden under his palm.

“Mmm…” she moved under his hand, urging him to get his other hand on her other breast.

Shaggy didn’t know what to do – he only knew that the good feelings he was enduring could only get better if their bodies got closer together. He somehow got himself between Velma’s legs; she eagerly parted them and pulled up her skirt, her hips rising to meet his still bell-bottom clad crotch. They kept kissing, nibbling and sucking while they rocked back and forth and Shaggy awkwardly held both of her breasts.

She pulled her lips away from his. “Rub my nipples, Shag,” Velma blurted out, making him blush into her neck. Somehow he got both palms over the crowns of her breast and rubbed her through her bra. She let out a moan. “Splendid,” she said, and hooked a leg around both of his. His hips began to work more strongly against hers, rubbing his hard-on against her sex through the layers of panties and pants. The fiction built and built up heat, until she was gasping into his mouth and pulling at his hair. “Yes, please…please don’t stop.”

“I won’t!” Shaggy yelped, not quite knowing what he’d just vowed to do. And he didn’t let up – he couldn’t, his hips were moving of their own volition against her soft, wet openness. Shaggy’s hips kept grooving, the sensations getting bigger and bigger and harder and harder to resist, until finally he lurched forward and rubbed himself as hard as he could against Velma’s panty-clad pussy, coming in a messy flood against the fly of his boxers.

Velma was there, somehow; her legs stiffened around his, and she yelped out a ‘Jinkies!’ before her limbs turned inward, her hips rising firmly up against his painfully-sensitive crotch three times before she collapsed in a heap in the blanket.

Velma ran a hand through Shaggy’s hair as he slowly regained his sensibilities. Suddenly he worried that he’d hurt her. She responded to his worried look with a dreamy smile. “Don’t worry, Shag,” Velma said, kissing his neck, “we’ll do this lots of times.”

Shaggy gaped down at her, as if she’d handed him the sun. “Lots of times?” he asked.

She nodded dreamily, and kissed his cheek. “G’night, Shaggy.”

He rolled over onto his own sleeping bag, holding a palm over his cheek. He grinned toward the wall of the van as he started to drift off. That was definitely been worth a night in wet pants.


End file.
